Myriad
by ifonlynotnever
Summary: COLLECTION. FujiRyo. Originally for 30kisses. Different themes, different focuses, different meanings, different universes. One pairing.
1. Universe

**Disclaimer:** _Prince of Tennis_ belongs to Konomi Takeshi. This fanfiction was written solely for entertainment purposes.  
**Summary:** (Work in Progress)(FujiRyo)(For 30kisses) Different themes, different focuses, different meanings, different universes. One pairing.

--

**Myriad**

--

_One_: Universe  
_Theme_: #8 - 二人の世界　(Our Own World)

--

Fuji is across the court from Echizen, racket in his hand and the sun in his eyes as the practice match begins.

And it's funny, but as the moments tick by, Fuji feels increasingly more _alive_. So terribly, terribly alive, with blood pulsing and fingers shaking and heart pounding in his ears. It has been like this a lot lately, when he is around Echizen, and it doesn't always have to be in the court. But it -- the feeling -- is... amplified... when (if ever) they play. It is a rush to the head, a shot to the heart, a punch in the gut, and it is thoroughly enjoyable.

_(They rally against one another, abusing the ball as they smack it from end to end. The rackets twang in protest.)  
_  
Syuusuke can hardly breathe, and he loves it. Thrill and high and something else that he doesn't feel like putting a name to because it'll only fuck around with the dynamics of his swing and his drive -- and he forces the oxygen into his lungs with a gasp of air.

_(The challenge to Echizen to remember _that first game: _a lob, a smash, a Higuma Otoshi, a point to Fuji. Echizen remembers.)  
_  
When they are like this -- when they are playing a match, sweat pouring down their faces, genuine smiles of enjoyment in place, _that fire_ in their eyes -- when they are like this, Syuusuke can only see Echizen and Echizen can only see Syuusuke. They are in their own place.

A memory flickers across his field of view, and it is of lips against lips, an action fueled by impulse and that unnamed emotion. Fuji indulges in it and lets his eyes wander to the delicate column of his opponent's throat before he pushes the memory away, away, away.

_(A return and a Drive B. Echizen picks up the pace and Fuji rises to the challenge -- but confused instincts falter and Fuji loses the ball.)  
_  
"Game, Echizen. Four games to three, Fuji leading," their captain says, watching them passively from the referee's chair.

_(The first serve. Echizen sends it back cleanly, and Fuji returns the favor. This game, it seems, will be a long one.)  
_  
Fuji can hear that odd music in his ears now, nothing romantic or corny or anything like that -- it's just the song of his heart beating, just the song of his blood singing to the clouds. Just the song of Echizen's yelling and the song of his returns. Just the song of the twang of a ball being beaten by racket strings. Just the song of his sharp breaths as he runs. Just the song of adrenalin's laughter as it throbs, throbs, throbs in his bloodstream like a drug that he can't get enough of -- a drug like Echizen.

"Thirty-all. Fuji to serve."

Fuji breathes in and lets it out, tries to let the tension uncoil in his stomach, bounces the ball once or twice.

From across the court, Echizen watches him intently, intensely, and for just a moment, Syuusuke feels like the center of their own exclusive universe.

He serves.

--

**notes**

Written for the 30kisses challenge over at LiveJournal. I seem to have had the incredible luck and timing to be able to claim the FujiRyo pairing. Eheh.

In any case: this happens to be a muchly-revised version of an already-posted fic of mine, _Thrill Drug_. Part Fifteen: Alive. Compare and contrast it, if you want, but I think the general message is exactly the same.

Mostly unedited. Apologies. And Fuji is psychotic, masochistic, and slightly sadistic. I also apologize for that.

Thank you so much for reading. Please review.


	2. On Staying Short

**Disclaimer:** _Prince of Tennis_ belongs to Konomi Takeshi. This fanfiction was written solely for entertainment purposes.  
**Summary:** (Work in Progress)(FujiRyo)(For 30kisses) Different themes, different focuses, different meanings, different universes. One pairing.

--

**Myriad**

--

_Two_: On Staying Short  
_Theme_: #28 -ワダカルシウム CD3 (Wada Calcium CD3)

--

"No," Ryoma says firmly, turning away.

Inui frowns. How _petulant_.

"Look, Echizen. You refuse to drink milk anymore. You refuse to take the calcium pills. There is a--"

"No statistics please, Inui-senpai," Echizen cuts in, and Inui frowns deeper. He doesn't recall Ryoma being so--so--God, this kid just got snarkier and snarkier over the years, didn't he? No thanks fo _Fuji_, of course, who is currently standing behind his boyfriend and shooting Inui smugly amused looks.

"You're going to stay short," the data-man says tightly, cutting down on his speech on genetics, the beneficial properties of calcium, and so on and so forth. And it was such a good rant--er, _speech_--too.

"I'm not going to drink them," Echizen says obstinately, crossing his arms.

Inui looks down at the bottle of Wada Calcium CD3 in his hand and then at Fuji, silently pleading the tensai to help convince Echizen.

But Fuji only puts his arms on the high school freshman's shoulders lightly, leaning down and kissing him on the top of the head.

"I like him the size he is," Syuusuke murmurs in a decidedly _very_ seductive voice. Echizen looks up, irritated, but he doesn't shrug the other boy off.

_Excellent data,_ Inui thinks distractedly. Echizen is used to--

Lightbulbs go off rather abruptly in Inui's head. He pushes up his glasses to the bridge of his nose and mentally prepares himself.

"You know, Echizen. There's a 100 chance that he's going to keep seme-ing you every time if you stay at your current height."

There is complete and utter silence while Ryoma turns the brightest shade of red anyone has ever seen on his face. Then he tugs the brim of his hat down viciously, wriggles out of Fuji's grasp, and storms away.

And then Fuji gives Inui a baleful look. A _death_ glare.

And Inui can only think, _Oh, FUCK._

--

"Fine," Echizen mutters later on, the brilliant blush finally having left his face. Inui hands him the bottle of vitamins, smiling satisfactorily despite the fact that Fuji will probably have his kneecaps broken at some point when he's walking home (or something like that).

As Ryoma leaves, he swears that he can hear the sound of Inui-senpai cackling evilly and hopes violently that Syuusuke has something terrible planned for the data-man.

--

**notes**

Inui, Sadist!Fuji (albeit very briefly), and Echizen... Comment and I'll love you forever. Cold, hard concrit is preferred, but go ahead and shower me with complements. That's cool, too.


	3. Picnic

**Disclaimer:**_ Prince of Tennis_ belongs to Konomi Takeshi. This fanfiction was written solely for entertainment purposes.  
**Summary:** (Work in Progress)(FujiRyo)(For 30kisses) Different themes, different focuses, different meanings, different universes. One pairing. 

--

**_Myriad_**

_--_

_Three:_ Picnic  
_Theme: _#19 - 赤　(Red)

--

Fuji Syuusuke lowers himself onto the blankets already crowded with Seigaku regulars and the ever-present freshmen and takes a slow account of the activities around him. The summer afternoon is hot and still, the sunlight trickling through the clustered leaves above them to create a dappled effect that would be perfect to capture on film.

Off to the edge of the blanket, Eiji and Oishi play cards against Kaidou and Inui, and the trio of freshmen -- Fuji can hardly remember their names, though he vaguely remembers that one has two years of tennis experience -- watch interestedly. Even this early into the game, Inui is dominating, his creepiest grin spreading over his lips. Eiji whines loudly that it's unfair; Inui is a data-and-statistics collector with extraordinary memory and he's cheating! Dammit, Oishi, that's -- he's _cheating!_ Kaidou, beside his partner, looks disgruntled and a little sheepish and Oishi tries to calm Eiji down a little, but Inui is unperturbed. He rather likes winning.

Taka-san and Momo are over with the food, Taka-san setting it out and Momo drooling over every article that comes out of the containers. Those girls who follow Echizen around -- Ryuuzaki-sensei's granddaughter and her friend (Tomako? Tokoma? Tomoka?) -- are helping out, too, putting out plates and utensils and setting the drinks out of the sun. Every once in a while, they stop to swat away the bugs who want the watermelon and juice. More often, however, they stop to swat away Momo, who wants the watermelon and juice and sushi and sandwiches and...

Closer to Fuji are Tezuka and Echizen, both quiet, though for different reasons. Tezuka leans against the tree, his legs stretched out before him, knees bent a little to prop up the book in his lap. He reads silently, callused fingers always at the edges of the worn pages. As he turns each leaf, the fingertips rustle across the page, followed closely by the braided-leather bracelet that hangs loosely around his wrist -- it is the only sound that he makes. When Fuji sits, he looks up briefly and nods slightly in acknowledgment, silent.

Echizen takes no such notice -- but then, Echizen is asleep, sprawled over his portion of the vast blanket as though no one else is around. His hat is pulled over his face and his arms are under his head, the standard napping position for him. There are pools of golden-yellow sunlight across his green T-shirt and arms, a leaf on his stomach, a tiny spider crawling up his calf. Fuji reaches out unthinkingly to brush it away lightly. Tezuka looks up at the action but Echizen doesn't wake.

"Oh, Fuji," Taka-san calls from the food blanket. "I didn't see you come back."

Syuusuke smiles a little. "Nn. I slipped back."

"Ah. Was it an important phone call? Can you stay?" Kawamura asks, suddenly worried. It would be terrible if Fuji had to leave, particularly since he'd made sure to bring along some of Fuji's favorite foods.

"I can stay," Syuusuke reassures him. "Nee-san just told me to pick up a few things on my way back home."

"Oh, that's okay, then," Taka-san says in relief, and continues to set up the food.

--

It isn't long before everyone is seated in a circle around the food, laughing and talking and sharing. Fuji pesters Tezuka, asking questions until he talks about the book he is reading. It is a little like pulling teeth, but Syuusuke doesn't mind because there is a little grin tugging at the edges of the now-awake Echizen's mouth, and amusement in his eyes at their captain's obvious exasperated annoyance.

After a while, when they have finished the main meal, Taka-san takes out the seedless watermelon with its white edible seeds and they all dive into the bowl for a piece, all of them except for Tezuka and Fuji. Tezuka, of course, isn't nearly undignified enough to dive into the bowl, but he makes sure to take one of the best pieces for himself before they're all gone. And Fuji -- well, Fuji doesn't really like watermelon very much, although he doesn't turn down the offer when Taka-san pushes the bowl in his direction, a friendly smile on his face.

Fuji nibbles on the watermelon a little bit, but is more interested in watching Echizen and the way his white teeth sink into the bright, deep red of watermelon flesh. The way there is satisfying crunch and the way his throat moves as he swallows. The way he presses his pink lips against the melon to catch the juice before it spills over his fingers.

An altogether very sensuous way to eat such a fruit, Fuji muses, and takes another bite. He doesn't really like watermelon -- too much faintly sweet water and not enough hard, biting flavor -- but, well.

After this, he might get to enjoy it.

--

The sun is no longer completely overhead when Momo takes out a soccer ball from out of nowhere and challenges Kaidou to a game. A setting-up of teams soon follows, with a jumbling up of freshmen and juniors and seniors on both sides. The girls are coerced into playing referee and scorekeeper.

Taka-san declines and begins to tidy up the area; Tezuka returns to his book; Echizen snags the last bit of watermelon.

And Fuji watches Echizen.

But it isn't until there is only a little bit of melon left in Echizen's hand that Syuusuke moves, leans forward so completely that he is almost covering Echizen; and then Fuji's lips close over the remaining fruit. His teeth, in a slight miscalculation, pinch at the younger boy's fingertips, and Fuji softens it with a kiss.

The surprise on Echizen's face is entirely expected, and makes a very pretty picture reflected back at him in Syuusuke's open, bright blue eyes. Fuji laughs a little against the watermelon in his mouth, and it is a husky sound, musical as he shifts and sits back.

Tezuka looks horrified.

--

_Omake:_

"You molested our freshman," Tezuka accuses later on, when he and Fuji are walking to the store to pick up items for Yumiko. Fuji frowns a little, an innocent downturning of lips that is _such_ bullshit.

"'Our freshman'?" he asks innocuously. "I wasn't aware we were sharing him."


	4. champagne

**Disclaimer**: Prince of Tennis belongs to Konomi Takeshi. This fanfiction was written solely for entertainment purposes.   
**Summary**: (Work in Progress)(FujiRyo)(For 30kisses) Different themes, different focuses, different meanings, different universes. One pairing. 

-- 

**_Myriad_**

-- 

_Four:_ champagne   
_Theme:_ #12 - ゴキゲン (in a good mood) 

-- 

Fuji smiles and lets the bubby sensation of champagne slide over his tongue, savoring the crisp taste.

He is twenty now, going to college and taking pictures for a sports magazine in his off time – they help pay for a fraction of his school dues, which aren't cheap, after all. Of course, he also indulges in another pastime – watching Tezuka and Echizen and Atobe and Sanada and Yukimura and all the rest of them chase each other around the pro tennis circuit.

It is highly amusing and it makes for horribly wonderful parties when they all get together before a tournament – the tension is palpable and the taunts (courtesy of Atobe and Echizen) are quick and sharp and laced with the potential to make Sanada go ballistic if he's strung tightly enough.

Fuji likes to sit on the sidelines and mentally tally up the points, smiling discreetly at some well-placed barb or other.

In any case: this is one such party, though it isn't before any particular tournament or other. It is merely the annual New Year's Eve get-together at the Atobe "cottage" (though if this is a cottage, then Fuji desperately wants to know what the Atobe mansion looks like).

And roughly three-quarters of the quests are _drunk_. As in, totally, absolutely, and _completely_ sloshed. Even Tezuka and Sanada are looking flushed and tipsy, coerced into too many drinks by their host and his partner in crime (respectively). Yukimura Seiichi and Atobe Keigo, across the room, catch sight of Syuusuke, give him eerily identical smiles, and tip their glasses at him.

Fuji smiles back and mirrors the gesture, though when a not-too-sober Ryoma falls into his lap, it becomes hard not to drop the glass. Hm. Echizen never was a good drinker.

"Fuji-senpai," Ryoma says dizzily, contentedly, and reaches up for Fuji's champagne. Syuusuke lets him have a few sips, then empties the glass himself. He sets the empty glass on a table and begins to settle Echizen more comfortably on his lap, turning Ryoma and letting him straddle Fuji's legs. Syuusuke puts his arms around the younger man's waist. Not that the new position is much better, because Ryoma isn't small anymore. He's eighteen and grown up, taller than Fuji and heavier, too.

Syuusuke can feel the alcohol begin to make things slightly fuzzy, but he smiles at the pretty flush across Echizen's cheekbones.

"Fuji-senpai," Ryoma says again suddenly. "I don't see you enough. I want to play a game."

"A game?"

"A game."

"What kind of game?" Fuji asks, and, yes, he's getting a little giddy right about now.

"Mada mada da ne," Ryoma responds, and it doesn't quite make sense, but then he leans forward and crashes his lips into Syuusuke's and, well.

Well.

_…Well._

--

Syuusuke wakes up feeling warm and satisfied the next morning and makes his way down to the dining area after a nice, long shower.

Atobe and Yukimura are already up and eating. The other guests, Fuji assumes, are either sleeping off the revelry, or have already gone home.

"Good morning," Fuji says brightly, and sits down across from Seiichi, who smiles and nods. Atobe smirks.

"Happy New Year," he replies. "Should I send up something for his hangover?"

Fuji nods. "Please."

Atobe makes a motion with his hand and a servant exits the room. Seiichi and Syuusuke watch in amusement.

"I've been thinking," murmurs Fuji slowly after a moment. "Maybe we should do this more often."

Keigo and Seiichi grin.

--

**Omake**

"Every year," Ryoma moans. "_Every_ year."

Tezuka sighs inaudibly and hands the younger man a glass of noxious-looking _stuff_ that Atobe sent a servant up with.

"What are you complaining about?" Sanada mutters darkly into a conveniently located pillow. "At least you weren't so drunk he turned things around on you."

Complete and _utter_ silence.

Sanada looks up. "Were you?"

"…_Every_ year," Tezuka and Echizen burst out at the same time, looking embarrassed and angry and – and –

Sanada buries his head under the pillow.


	5. flush

**Disclaimer**: Prince of Tennis belongs to Konomi Takeshi. This fanfiction was written solely for entertainment purposes.  
**Summary**: (Work in Progress)(FujiRyo)(For 30kisses) Different themes, different focuses, different meanings, different universes. One pairing. 

-- 

**_Myriad_**

--

_Five:_ flush

--

Ryoma burrows into the comforter that Syuusuke has pulled up over him and Syuusuke, in response, smiles to himself, feeling the warm soaring emotion somewhere inside him.

It has been a long day for both of them, but Ryoma especially; he is still only fifteen, and the tournament took a lot out of him. By the time they got home, there was little he could do but stumble into bed and curl up over the stuffed cat Fuji bought him when Karupin died.

Syuusuke carefully runs his fingers through the dark hair spilling over the pillow before rising from the bedside and pulling out a futon from the closet. This is just a sleepover, after all -- if Echizen's parents were to check up on them, it would not do to be in a compromising position.

Or so Fuji tells himself.

**--**

It is later in the night, when Syuusuke is drifting between a dream and waking consciousness that he realizes that there is more warmth pressed flush against his body than should be possible. And then it registers somewhere in the back of his mind that there is another body with him, breathing with him, sleeping with him.

Ryoma's lips are against his neck, his arms thrown around Syuusuke's waist, his fingertips light against the exposed skin of Fuji's back. Fuji shifts a little and pulls Echizen even closer, letting the warmth flood every inch of him. He smiles softly in contentment before wandering back into dreamland.

Screw parents.

**--**

**Omake**

Nanjirou gapes.

"R-rinkoooo!"

"I'm right here, dear," his wife, murmurs, and forcefully drags Nanjirou out of the doorway.

"But -- but -- _girls_! They're -- "

"They're boys and cute. Leave it alone."

Nanjirou lets out a strangled wail.

"My _daughter-in-law..._"

-- 

**notes**

  
I'm quite bad at making consistent updates, aren't I? Sorry about that. :P I'll try to be better about it from now on! 


	6. heatstroke

**Disclaimer**: Prince of Tennis belongs to Konomi Takeshi. This fanfiction was written solely for entertainment purposes.  
**Summary**: (Work in Progress)(FujiRyo)(For 30kisses) Different themes, different focuses, different meanings, different universes. One pairing.

-- 

**_Myriad_**

--

_Six:_ heatstroke

--

The heat is oppressive, heavy, the weight against his skin like a thousand years of solitude and discomfort. The rattling inefficiency of an air conditioner hums loudly and Ryoma finally gives up and turns it off. The windows are hard to open, and screech when he throws all of his weight into pulling the glass frames up, his fingertips white and straining.

And it's still no good. The heat sinks into his skin and pulses through his veins. Unbearable.

Ryoma is fifteen now, living in New York full-time because this is where his parents enrolled him in high school after he left Seigaku junior high. They live in Queens, in a raggedy three-family apartment building that Nanjirou bought because it has a backyard and because it is the last place any and all reporters would think to find them.

Ryoma wipes the sweat from his forehead, pushing the hair out of his eyes, and flops back onto his bed, the sheets of which are twisted and wet with perspiration. His shirt is somewhere off to the side, but he can't see it in the darkness. The cicadas rattle annoyingly outside and he's sure that mosquitoes will come through that hole in the screen of his window. The sounds of drunken men coming back from the Irish pub mingle with the shuddering of the 7 train on its elevated track.

He shifts a little, trying to find a cool spot on the sheets, and fingers the waistband of his boxers, wondering if he should just take them off already.

It is at this point that Ryoma's cell phone, sitting beside his alarm clock, buzzes and lights up before beginning to play his favorite song. Ryoma just looks at it for a while, silently commanding it to _shut up_ because he's too hot and tired to even want to shut it off.

It keeps ringing.

With a groan, Ryoma reaches out to get it, glancing at the clock and wondering who the _fuck_ would call at 1:16 in the morning. The number on the display is unregistered and Ryoma doesn't recognize it, though he realizes that -- ah -- it's a Japan number.

Figures.

"Hello?" he answers sullenly, his voice rough.

"_Echizen?_" the caller asks in reply.

The heat against Ryoma's body is unbearable.

"Fuji-senpai."  
_  
"Aa. I hope I didn't wake you up."_

"Your number is different," Echizen mutters, running his fingers through his icky, sweaty hair. Maybe he should put the air conditioning back on.  
_  
"I got a new phone,"_ says Fuji, and proceeds to launch into an explanation that Ryoma doesn't particularly listen to because he is more intent on trying to get the heat out, out, out.

Vaguely he notes that there is screaming in the background, and laughing, and Oishi-senpai yelling at someone or other in that worried tone of his.

"Where are you?" Ryoma interrupts, and his voice is still rough.  
_  
"We took a trip to the beach,"_ Fuji says, and there is a smile in his voice. _"All of us. Even a few of your old classmates."_

Echizen listens closely before the incredulous revelation comes: "Horio. You invited Horio to the beach with you."  
_  
"Not particularly. They seem to have invited themselves. That's quite an impressive Speedo Horio-kun has on, though."_

Ryoma makes a very incoherent noise that might have been classified as a _gurgle_, and Fuji gives a light, amused laugh. Ryoma can hear someone -- Momo-senpai, actually -- yelling.  
_  
"Nn. Momo asks how it is in New York."_

Ryoma shifts onto his side and thinks how to answer -- how to say that he still hates it because it isn't Seigaku, how he doesn't fit in because he'd forgotten what being _American_ is, how he doesn' t have any friends because Kevin Smith is back in California, how the kids at school think the's a snob because he doesn't like to talk to them in a language he doesn't like anymore. How he misses them.

"Hot," he answers. "Really hot."

There is a silence as Fuji relays this to Momo.  
_  
"He wants to know if you have a girlfriend yet."_

Ryoma gives a derisive snort.  
_  
"Oh, that's right. Boyfriend?"_

The heat, the heat, the heat.

Another snort.  
_  
"Ah, I see."_

Ryoma swallows.

"You?"

"_Nn. He has a girlfriend. You didn't know?"_

It takes Echizen a few seconds to realize that Fuji-senpai is answering for Momo-senpai, and tries to smother the burning butterflies in his gut.

"No. You, Fuji-senpai."

A few beats of silence, and Echizen can almost hear him blinking. Then:  
_  
"Saa..."_

Ryoma wants to groan, but refrains from the action.  
_  
"Ne, Echizen. Can you hear the waves?"_ asks Fuji suddenly. Ryoma, caught off-guard, strains to listen, but can hear nothing save for children screaming and Horio bragging loudly.

"No," he replies, and he hears Fuji-senpai sigh. Then -- movement, and the sound of Fuji-senpai's breathing changes as he moves. Ryoma looks out the window and tries not to think about the dizziness that comes with the heat and how it makes him say things he shouldn't say.  
_  
"Now?"_ Fuji asks a few long moments later, and Echizen strains again. And this time, he can hear it. The soft push and tug of the saltwater against the grainy sand, the gentle swish and rumble, the sound that can only be classified as _ocean_.

"Yeah," Ryoma murmurs softly, and closes his eyes. He can almost taste the salty breeze sweeping the heat away. Can almost smell the ocean surrounding him. Can almost feel Fuji-senpai beside him.  
_  
"Ne, Echizen. When are you coming back to Japan?"_

"Dunno." He curls up a little.  
_  
"We miss you."_ Fuji pauses a moment. _"Or I do, at least. I suppose I shouldn't speak for the others."_

Ryoma snorts a little and feels himself actually beginning to drift into sleep, despite the terrible heat against his skin, against his gut, against his cheekbones, against his heart.  
_  
"Hm. It's late in New York, isn't it? I suppose I'll just let you sleep, then, Echizen. I'll call you again,"_ says Fuji, a smile and laughter in his voice as he hangs up.

Ryoma sleepily shuts the phone and lets it slip to the floor even as he begins to dream of waves and heat and kissing Fuji-senpai on the beach.

The heat, the heat, the heat.


	7. of brightlycolored birds

**Disclaimer:** _Prince of Tennis_ belongs to Konomi Takeshi. This fanfiction was written solely for entertainment purposes.  
**Summary:** (Work in Progress)(FujiRyo)(For 30kisses) Different themes, different focuses, different meanings, different universes. One pairing.

--

_**Myriad**_

--

_Seven_: of brightly-colored birds

--

"Ne, Fuji-senpai. What's that?"

Fuji glances up at Echizen and lets a smile slip. It is lunchtime and Fuji has escaped onto the roof for quiet alone time; it's just one of those days.

He hadn't expected for Echizen to show up, but somehow it doesn't surprise him that he did.

"This?" he asks, holding up a piece of beautifully folded paper between his two fingers. "It's a crane, Echizen."

Ryoma frowns.

"Origami." 

"Mm. Origami."

"Why?"

Fuji shrugs fluidly.

"Why not?" He sets the crane down, adding it to the neat pile beside him. There are five or six of them altogether, a rainbow of brightly-colored birds. Syuusuke takes another sheet of paper and begins to fold.

"Teach me," Ryoma says suddenly. Fuji glances up and laughs lightly, amused by his underclassman.

"Of course," he replies. "Sit down..."

--

Echizen's cranes look horrible. They're malformed and ugly and totally different from Fuji-senpai's graceful birds.

Fuji-senpai says he just needs to practice a little and he'll get better.

Echizen doesn't believe him.

But he does.

--

They sit together in silence; the only noise between them is that of rustling paper.

To tell the truth, Echizen doesn't much like folding cranes. They're tedious and useless and he has these odd calluses beginning on the tips of his fingers where he's pressed down on the creases.

But if it means he gets to spend time alone with Fuji-senpai, he doesn't really mind so much...

--

Echizen moves back to America in November.

His father says it'll be permanent this time; there's no reason for them to be in Japan any longer, considering how much Ryoma's improved. The _real_ tennis world is in America. He'll live in New York and go to a special tennis school and he'll be the World Number 1 in no time at all. 

Echizen just utters a, "Che," and swallows _that feeling_ in his throat.

--

Fuji smiles when he says good-bye. He smiles and gives Echizen his parting gift and watches Echizen deal with his other admirers, friends, and teammates.

He smiles until he feels the string of un-given paper cranes in his pocket, and then he turns away to go wash his face in the airport restroom.

--

Fuji writes to Echizen in America.

He writes once, and it is a long letter about how everything is in Japan. About Echizen's old friends. About things.

Echizen's reply is short and curt; school keeps him busy. His old man keeps him busy. Tennis keeps him busy. But he misses Japan.

Fuji writes again, and this time it is a little shorter. A little.

Echizen's reply is late, and short, and doesn't say much of anything. Fuji doesn't care.

He writes again. And again. And again.

There are no replies.

--

It takes Fuji Syuusuke nine months, a week, and four days to realize that Echizen isn't going to write back anymore.

--

Echizen Ryoma finds himself back in Japan a year, a month, a week, and a day after leaving.

He's counted.

Ryuuzaki-sensei meets him at the airport, and she seems genuinely happy to see him. She needs him on her regulars, she explains. Seigaku didn't get anywhere near Nationals this past year, and she needs a strong captain.

He asks her about Fuji-senpai.

Ryuuzaki gives him a funny look. 

"He's not on the high school team," she tells him. "Pity. He was so good, too."

--

Fuji hears that Echizen is back. He hears and he doesn't know whether he really believes it or not until he spots a somewhat-familiar form skulking in front of his house.

"Echizen," he says neutrally, a smile in place on his lips.

Ryoma frowns.

"You stopped writing."

The muscle in Syuusuke's jaw tightens minutely.

"Mm? Did I? I wonder why..."

Echizen looks away.

"I read all of them."

Fuji turns and begins to walk to his door. "I see."

"Senpai." 

Syuusuke takes out his keys. "Hm?"

"I didn't know how to send them all to you."

A pause in movement. "Send what?"

In response, Echizen steps forward and hands Fuji a backpack that Syuusuke didn't even realize he had with him.

"There are 806," Ryoma says, and Fuji looks at him quizzically before unzipping the backpack.

It's an explosion of color -- a flock of brightly-colored birds nestled in the black fabric, packed tightly in there together.

Fuji stares, and Echizen feels vaguely triumphant that he's managed to genuinely shock him.

"Echizen..."

"Can I come in, Fuji-senpai?"

Fuji looks up and meets Echizen's gaze. _Really_ meets it.

"Of course," he says, and ushers Ryoma in, clutching the bag in one hand. Then, after a moment: "...You could've used a box, you know."


End file.
